MRS. MALLé Y AND A POSTMAN'S LOT O NE morning while Mrs. Malley was washing the breakfast dishes she suddenly remembered hav- ing heard somewhere that the best way to clean windows was with wet news- papers. "I wonder why I never tried it before," she said, and thought it was interesting the way one's subconscious mind worked. As soon as the dishes were finished, she carried a pail of wa- ter and the previous night's lV orld- Telegram into the front hall and got to work; the windows on either side of the door had been smeary for a long time. She was still scrubbing away vig- orously when she saw the postman com- ing up the front walk, and somehow he looked different to her-taller and thin- ner, with a more deliberate walk, and quite bowed over, really, by the weight of his bag. She opened the door as he came up the steps onto the porch. "Good morn- . " 1 . d " y , , lng, s 1e saI. ou re new, aren t you?" He started slightly and gave her a reproachful glance. He had a long, sad face, and he was wearing rimless octag- onal glasses, which Mrs. Malley con- sidered un usual for a postman. "1 been on this route just about a week," h . d H d " " e sal. e pronounce route so that it rhymed with "about." "And to tell you the truth, I don't like it as ill uch as the one I had before." Mrs. Malley stretched out a wet hand for the packet of let- ters and said, "What route was , it?" She pronounced it the same ../ :/\:,; way, to spare his feelings, be- cause he was obviously a sensitive 111 an. "Laureldale," he told her, "that new section. Stained-glass wIndows they got in their bath- room windows up there, but the foundations! Just sand, that's all, with a little cement mixed in. And the walls-like card- board," he said, wagging his head mournfully. "But do they care ? No. All they care about is they got stained-glass bathroom . d " WIn ows. "I've said right along those houses were jerry-built. Now, this house is nearly twenty years old, but-" "They got rules in that sec- tIon, though," said the postman. "Strict rules. No unmuzzled d o-s" 0 0 . "But they have the same rule every- where. It's a state law, I think," .said Mrs. Malley. "It could be an amendment to the United States Constitution and the peo- ple around here wouldn't care. You can see for yourself." He pointed with gloomy vindication at a large mongrel sniffing one of the evergreens by the sidewalk. "Has he got a muzzle on?" "Well, people are rather careless, I " suppose. "It's anarchy, that's what it is. No respect for lore and order," said the postman. "And I never seen so many dogs in my life as you got around here. I would prefer to deliver mail in the Bronx Park Zoo. At least they got them . " In cages. "But they're good, gentle dogs," Mrs. Malley said doubtfully. "Gentle!" If the postman had been able to work up enough energy, he would have been outraged. "Every day I am bitten. Every day." He turned slightly, showing Mrs. Malley a small rip just above his trouser cuff. "That happened this morning. Mrs. "",1 alker's house. I would prefer to meet a raging lion than that dog. I would rather meet 19 a savage puma In the jungle. Bare- handed." """,1 ell, people say, you know, that If you just aren't scared of dogs, they don't pay any attention." "Sure," said the postman. "I heard that one, too. You see a dog, you get .scared, you emit a certain odor, and the dog bites you. Albert Payson Terhune, that's his theory. Or maybe he's the one who says the theory is wrong. I don't know. I get mixed up. It's no life, a postman. Right this minute I feel like I am on the verge of a nervous collapse." Mrs. Malley looked at him anxiously, wondering what she would do if he col- lapsed on her front step. "If you'd just try not to be scared," she suggested. He gazed at her bleakly through the octagonal glasses. "Every day in every way I am growing braver and braver," he said. "Remember that craze? Coué. Since I was a child, I have been scared of dogs. .L-\ phobia. You are thinking maybe a psychiatrist would help. But I am only a mail-carrier, after all. A poor man. I have no money to spend on high- . d k " pnce quac s. "But if you just asked Mrs. 'iValker to muzzle her dog-" The postman let out a brief, bitter laugh. "You kno7,v that M rs. Walker, .",':'. .:.." ;.".::'. ".:;. .0(10.. : ..'" ....: . ..;".:.:/?{ ' I ...' :. =!J::. , .....n...::. .' ..-:' ..: . . .' ,. .iif? .... ':::l .:-.,,: :à:'. :':,: J,ì: ; gS:: : :t! .} ;i . . ':1 é\.f'f;:. i. ;;" ..,..W i'" ..;. {:!:? : ';".;.:.:.:.;." i;;1:',,;::':øff; "':;;:î;;':;'Y:::I'::';; v '. .:..::: .:^--. .,.. \y;,^" '.>, , :....':,. ...... --:--:"'.. ':: x.>,.: . * . .' :; !; i ,; 1iúJW' '0 i';' ) .:.:::: ':;'" ":-. -,;' ::' ;! i> .:-- '$': ëtJ] w'#w: : 'i-:-:: m ::::::::::>/. /: ". ff ' ," ,. ;. : ' : . .. ' . . ' .:: ': . . . "" . ': . .. . ' : \ . : . .. .. .. .. . . ìÆ >>:' :., ' : ' lii::::a '," '" JJ < " ' ":t ç.: ; ,i': 1''' "Now, Susie, you }?now Mr. Sneck only ag-gravates your father.))